


When Your Friends Become Your Enemies

by lostsoul512



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 05:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostsoul512/pseuds/lostsoul512
Summary: Anduin Wrynn gets an unexpected visit from an old friend, except he guesses they aren't really friends anymore.





	When Your Friends Become Your Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to ff.net prior to the release of Legion. A lot of wishful thinking on my part. I should know by now that Blizz never gives me anything I want. 
> 
> Not compliant with actual Legion events.

The wind was bitterly cold as it rolled in off the sea, damp and thick with salt. It filled his lungs with each gasping, shaking breath, collided with the tears that rolled like crystalline rivers down his cheeks, tugged at the long strands of his golden blonde hair, which he couldn't seem to keep out of his face no matter how he tried to tie them back. There was a heavy weight upon his shoulders, and he couldn't be sure if it was from the cloak that he wore, all done up in navy and gold, embroidered in the royal sigil, or if it was something else, something unseen but weighing far more than the thick fabric that wrapped around his small frame with each gust of air. The smooth marble was cold under his fingertips. 

"If it's any consolation," came a low, sudden voice from over his shoulder, enough to make him jump but not enough to make him turn. "The crown looks good on you." 

"Leave me alone," the blonde muttered, retracting his hand from the tombstone before him. A perfect set, one beside the other, ornate stone engraved with meaningful words and flowers laid before them. At long last, he turned around, the cloak sweeping around his legs and a scowl etched into his face. "I'll call the guards." 

The Black Prince Wrathion arched a single brow. "Must you always be so melodramatic, Anduin Wrynn?" 

Anduin's expression did not falter; if anything, the look only deepened. "Haven't I earned the right by now?" He muttered under his breath. "I told you to go away, Wrathion. I don't want to talk to you." 

But of course, the young black dragon had never listened, not to him or to anyone, and it seemed this time would prove no different. Instead, he dared to take a step towards the prince- no, no, King, that was going to take some getting used to- holding up a hand in front of him in a silent sorting peace offering. "I know that you're upset-" 

"Upset?!" Anduin echoed, taking a half of step backwards, nearly tripping in his attempt to regain some distance between them. "This is your fault, Wrathion. All of this, everything- you might as well have killed him yourself." 

"Not that I don't appreciate the flattery," Wrathion sneered, his demeanor shifting in the blink of an eye. "But you're giving me far too much credit." 

Anduin couldn't help it- in a brief lapse of maturity, he rolled his pale blue eyes. But then, Wrathion had always known how to get under his skin, more than anyone else he'd ever met. "Just...just get out of here," he mumbled, pausing for a moment in contemplation and then adding, "before I have you executed." 

Wrathion gave a laugh at that, but it was icy and hollow and lacking any real humor. "Ah, yes. For your first act as King, you shall pick up your father's mantle and swear vengeance on the black dragonflight. How precious." 

Hands clenching into fists at his sides, Anduin felt the first telling sparks of the Light in his veins and at his fingertips. "All your flight has ever done is seek to destroy us," he snapped. "Why shouldn't we do the same?" 

Now it was Wrathion's turn to roll his eyes, something dangerously malicious gleaming in their crimson depths. "You're off to a wonderful start in the anger department, I must say. I can hardly tell the difference-" 

"Your kind killed my mother, and now you've killed my father!" The blonde bellowed, cutting his off as he clenched his jaw- the light was visible now, dancing along his palms, ready to attack. "What, did you come to finish the Wrynn line off, Wrathion? Because if you have, then please, by all means. Kill me now." 

In an instant, Wrathion was upon him, closing the distance between them in a blur of motion so far Anduin didn't even have time to react. The dragon's clawed fingers dug into his flesh, the place where his shoulder met his collarbone, where old wounds had never quite managed to heal. "I am not your enemy, Anduin Wrynn. I have never been your enemy." 

A low hiss of agonizing pain slipped through his gritted teeth, but when he tried to push the bigger man off of him, he found both of his wrists caught in his other hand. "Really?" He managed. "You have- a strange way of- showing allegiance-" 

Wrathion pressed down harder, until Anduin could no longer contain the low cry that had been desperately trying to free itself from within his lungs. "And you," he growled in return, "will make a pathetic king if you let your personal interests blind you to the greatest picture." Pausing, just for the briefest of seconds, he tilted his head to the side, those glowing eyes filled with some indecipherable emotion. "Besides," he said then. "I know all your weaknesses."

And with that, he was upon him, exchanging his painful grip for one that was far gentler, an arm slung around his waist to hold him in place, the other hand fisted into his long tresses, completely undoing his attempts at keeping them confined. Their lips collided in a sudden kiss, a breaking of passion and pleasure and pain, all encompassing and all consuming. Anduin resisted only very briefly before surrendering to the embrace, all of his feelings for the black dragon, which he’d thought long abandoned, surfacing all at once. His fingers lifted to tangle with the fabric of his shirt, his mouth parting under the other man’s kiss, until he felt the sharp brushing of his fangs against him. 

“Wrathion,” he protested, but the name was muffled and he wasnt making any attempt to break away- he practically seemed to be leaning in, like he longed to be closer, though they were already pressed against each other. “Wrathion, please-” 

“Hush,” the dragon scolded, breaking away just long enough to give him a pointed look and leave the human panting, gulping in long and greedy breaths to try and reclaim the oxygen he’d lost. 

Anduin was quick to shake his head. “I-I cant,” he stammered out, lowering his gaze to the grass at his feet for only a few seconds before thinking that it probably wasnt very becoming of a king to back down from anyone and daring to meet his stare once again. 

What he found there was knitted brows and a slight confusion, one that appeared to be genuine. “Because you need a queen and an heir now?” He prompted, the question sincere instead of mocking. 

“No,” Anduin muttered, flashing a quick glare at his old friend- lover? Whatever. No, that was the last thing on his mind at this present moment in time. “Because you’re a traitor and an enemy and I want nothing more to do with you.” 

For the briefest of seconds, something dangerously close to actual pain flickered across Wrathion’s features. He took a step away from the blonde, straightened out his clothes and pushing a hand through his mess of dark curls, far longer than they had been the last time they’d met. “Suit yourself, then,” he said, and although he was doing his best to sound cold and disinterested, there was an undeniable underlying ache in the words. 

Anduin ignored the urge to collapse against him, to let all of the emotions he had been choking back for days, weeks, years, to free themselves at last. He imagined that Wrathion might hold him against his chest as he had done in Pandaria, days now so long ago they seemed little more than the ghost of a memory, a dream even. He imaged that Wrathion might brush back his hair and wipe away his tears and whisper soft words of reassurance that would make him feel better. But he was not a child now- he was a king, a ruler, and there were more people depending on his guidance than he could even fully fathom. Breaking down was not an option any longer. 

So, he took a deep breath, counting the seconds as he inhaled, and he let it out slowly through parted lips, and he squared his shoulders as he brushed past Wrathion, using all the willpower he had left not to glance back. “I wouldnt stick around if I were you,” he called out softly, almost closer to a warning than a threat. 

Wrathion let out a short huff of a breath, laced with amusement, and Anduin could just perfectly picture the smirk upon his lips. “As you command, my dear king.”


End file.
